I looked at him, not even caring that I looked like a creep; he looked so young but so broken. He looked cold so I ran and got him a cover, I put it over him and he woke up and freaked out.
He yelled "N-O D-DON'T ...... o-h so-sorr-y."
I replied "no it's ok, don't be sorry, what happen."
"N-noth-ing..."
He tried to sit up, grabbed his side and fell back in the seat. His once baby blue shirt turned blood red.
"Stop, don't move you'll hurt yourself more." I ran and got the first aid kit again and a wet rag.
I went over to him took the cover off and lifted his blood covered shirt off to clean and bandaged his side. Then I saw his side had stitches that had popped and needle marks.
I washed and stitched his sides. Then I saw a bullet.
I mumbled "shit"
He tried to speak clear" h-o-ho-w b-a-d-bad is i-t."
He tried to get up again, and just fell back down I could tell he was in lots of pain.
I tried to keep him calm and said "stop you're going to pop your stitches... Why won't you let me take you to the hospital?"
He said "they'll f-in-find m-e."
I said "who are they."
He fell back asleep before he could answer. So I ran into the shed out back and grabbed my father's pliers. Ran back I hoped he wouldn't wake up when I tried to pull the bullet out.
Nope shit out of luck.
He yelled "STOP! YOU SHIZz...!!!"
I said trying to keep him calm " we need to get it out."
"FINE!"
